Spider sex

In the night I watched two spiders having sex. The larger one sent out two questing, tentacular legs towards the smaller, and the smaller approached then retreated, and this foreplay lasted over half an hour (Oh! The joys of insomnia!) Then the smaller dashed in, and the larger opened to him, pushing her legs back, while he jabbed at her underside repeatedly. Then suddenly he dashed away, and they sat a few inches apart, smoking a cigarette. I thought she was coming for him to eat him, but then I thought she was just repairing damage to her web. In the morning I saw three husks the size and shape of the smaller spider in her web, before I swept it away: she ran below my bed, and may yet lay eggs there.

In the pub, two dogs met: a Jack Russell and a spaniel perhaps twice its height at the shoulder. They sniffed each other’s bottoms, then the Jack Russell put its forepaws around the other’s neck. The other, distressed, was restrained by the man with its lead. The woman put the lead of the other round the leg of a chair, which the smaller dog proceeded to pull across the floor, and went away to chat. Then I saw the small dog with its forepaws on the other’s haunches.

“Is it trying to bugger it?” wondered a man. Then we saw its hips moving. “He likes dogs which have been spayed” the woman had said earlier, but I had not thought she meant that, as “spayed” usually means oopherectomy rather than castration. Later I saw the spaniel on its owner’s lap, while the Jack Russell, sitting on his haunches, batted up at its muzzle with his forepaws. I wondered how she would have responded had the spaniel’s owner complained, but doubt she would have had difficulty.

Nice pacifist Quakers don’t have conflict? “I need twenty”, I emailed to one, and he replied “You can have eight”. “I need twenty!” I emailed back, immediately, definitely. It does not matter what they were, as long as you realise that twenty is easier for me, more difficult for him, and considerably better. And he gave in, just like that.

I wrote before of the lawyers of Engrenages, and then wrote “But that is not me”. Possibly, it might be. I see such people, and think, yeah, that might work. What is it like? Here is Edward Burrough on the Quaker business meeting: do read the whole thing. When I read it before business meeting I missed out the bit about “hot contests”, a decision I regret, because we are strong personalities, who can be difficult. Proper business method leading to Unity requires us not to suppress our difficulties and differences, but to transcend them. My old, “Oh, why can’t we just get along?” does not work.

Ingres, Françoise Poncelle

Healing II

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/f0/Jacopo_Pontormo_058.jpgI am surrounded by beauty.

That man, his face is so expressive. The frown of concentration, staring at his netbook, then the joyful grin as he gets it. I love his big, powerful hands and his broad shoulders. We said nothing, he pulled his legs in as I got up to leave the train, and there was still an encounter. Oh, and there was a wind turbine. I always love the curve of the blades.

This morning (5 January) I was thinking how I cannot do healing. There is nothing more to it than placebo. Whether reiki or one of those physical techniques, G’s thing or U’s thing, all that time learning woo to bamboozle people. Even if you do pick up some cold reading techniques, I could not feel or express belief like she did. That was a moment of complete non-communication, her certainty and my incredulity. And- it is an important part of the treatment that is placebo, the expression of the healer’s belief.

H is scared about her cataract operation next week. I am anxious and frightened and angry. Why? I toy with various possible reasons. That would fit, but it is not that. It could be that. I need to know what I am going to do. Then, after about half an hour, I think, Oh, OK. I am anxious and frightened and angry. I just am. Suddenly the feeling is there, but the emotional identification with it, the investment and the importance of it, drain away. Interesting. That could be a useful technique.

I change trains and find a far more friendly fellow passenger. Poppy touches my knee, I caress her neck. Then she rolls over and I tickle her tummy. Maria, her owner, is pleased with the attention. Poppy, whose ears might be a foot from the floor if she holds her head high, is fifteen months old so has not much more to grow. Maria’s last dog she got from the police, who kept it three weeks for the owner to pick it up, then if no-one adopted it within another three weeks would have it put to sleep. She took it to get it microchipped, and the vet said it had been microchipped already. The vet offered to change the microchip details to hers. So microchipping is not much use. It occurs to me now that the police had called the owner, who had not wanted the dog back. Poppy’s collar has a tag with Maria’s phone number.

Poppy keeps getting down and jumping up at passing passengers. Maria wants her still. I think of giving reiki to Spot, who loved being on my lap. Ah. I have not even channelled Qi to myself for weeks, it is good to be reminded. There is something there. She likes you, said Maria.
-Well, I am a lovely person.
-They are very good judges of character.

The sky was beautiful, and now it is dark the occasional light passing is beautiful. Even the concrete of New St Station is- stimulating, involving, not depressing, filled with life, practical and effective.

The train gets in. I take the steps two at a time, walk as fast as I can with my heavy case, and get to the stop just in time for the last bus. Everything is OK.